An Old Tree Falls
For Robert Bly He had gotten old last time I saw him, hair thinned white though still with fire in his belly. He’d lit that
November 28, 2021
16 Comments
For Robert Bly He had gotten old last time I saw him, hair thinned white though still with fire in his belly. He’d lit that
I’m janitor in the house of soul, working each night with broom and mop, pushing my old cart through the dream time. The body sleeps
Down I go once more into the soul kitchen where winter soup slowly cooks. All the heartache and worn out beliefs of the living and
The ocean roared with strong winds, sheets of rain and white capped waves. I awoke in the night, gusts shaking the cabin, rattling my sleep,